


We Like The Way You Move

by FictionAddiction (agirlnameddale)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Gen, Humor, Pack Feels, Pre-Slash, Stiles-centric, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnameddale/pseuds/FictionAddiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bored Stiles is barely contained chaos.  He knows how he is.  He tries to find activities to keep himself entertained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Like The Way You Move

**Author's Note:**

> My very first public post, ever. I love to watch Dylan O'Brien dance. Or walk. Or stand in place... So, even though Stiles is a spaz, I imagine he has great rhythm when he isn't running for his life. Please be brutally honest with any reviews. All misspellings, run-on sentences and excessive punctuation are due to enthusiasm and lack of sleep. I take criticism very well and WANT to improve. I have so many stories clawing at my brain to get out. Thanks for reading.
> 
> The Hale Pack doesn't belong to me but I wish I belonged to them.

Stiles is bored. Bored is bad. Very bad. Bad like his dad, the sheriff, getting a call from his neighbor reporting weirdness going on at his own house. Again. This is a well-known problem. Ask his dad. Ask his friends. Hell, ask his teachers, lacrosse coach and just about any stranger on the street who’s been in town two hours! Bored Stiles is barely leashed chaos.

He knows how he is. He's been living in his own head 24/7 for 17 years. It's a bit scary, even to him, how his thoughts come and go so fast. How they ping around in his head like a handful of BB's bouncing off the inside of his skull setting off bright sparks of randomness like a colorful strobe light. He’s pretty sure he’s immune to Adderall by now. His utter lack of a social filter, zero impulse control and painfully awkward public displays of semi-spasticness guarantee his recognition as the Sheriff's weird kid. Yeah. That's Stiles.

It’s always a bad thing when his Dad gets called to help with a case in a neighboring town. Stiles gets the standard warning to "Stay out of trouble", lest said Father get called back to his own town, to deal with another aforementioned report of weirdness. Probably at his own home. Again. So, being the good and obedient son he tries to be, Stiles firmly resolves to comply with his father’s wishes. But that'll be a challenge when he gets bored.

It’s the weekend and Stiles looks forward to spending time hanging out with Scott (unless he’s sneaking around with Allison) or playing video games with Isaac. He’s also secretly hoping Derek will come over. Nobody else ever shows up when Derek comes over. The coincidence is a bit intriguing. They usually order pizza and watch movies. If they happen to sit close enough that they're touching from knees to shoulders, it’s just one of those werewolves-need-lots-of-physical-contact things, right? Whatever. He LIKES it, okay?

It’s a bit concerning when he hasn't heard from anyone all day. He’s left messages for Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Danny, Derek and Lydia. Allison’s phone is being monitored (spied on) so he doesn't message her. Getting desperate, he even texted Erica and JACKSON! (Ugh! He feels like he needs to sanitize his phone now). The whole pack is unresponsive. Stiles’ overactive imagination starts cycling through every horrific scenario that could bring down an entire pack of werewolves. Something’s WRONG! What if…

When he notices the symptoms of an imminent panic attack he concentrates on slowing his breathing, relaxing his tensed muscles (yes, muscles) and thinking soothing thoughts.  Deep breath in…slow exhale…loose muscles…loose muscles…happy thoughts…haaaapy thoughts…

The first image that comes to mind is falling asleep watching movies with Derek and waking with his head resting on the older man’s chest. He’d lain there listening to Derek’s heartbeat and slow, even breathing. The warm arm anchoring him from falling off the couch felt nice. He realized Derek had fallen asleep, too. It was the most relaxed Stiles had felt in what seemed like forever. He felt safe and mentally pondered the contradiction. Safe in the arms of an Alpha werewolf. His usually racing thoughts had been slow and lazy as he drifted back to sleep. When he found himself in his bed that morning he felt a bit bereft.

When the almost panic attack subsides, Stiles convinces himself everyone must be out for a long run. The full moon is tomorrow night. Since the newest “lunarly- challenged” teens don’t have complete control yet, they’ll have to be confined. A run on the day before seems a logical (and hopefully tiring) bonding activity.

Keeping the positive explanation firmly in place, Stiles is determined to entertain himself until someone (anyone) responds to one of the 40-ish messages he sent earlier. He can do this. Really. How hard can it be? He has lots of options. Lots. Like…

Video Games! Yes! He has LOTS of video games. From mindless, juvenile games to intense, digital massacre type stuff. He contemplates joining an online game but immediately decides against it. It’s not much fun unless Scott and Isaac are playing, too. He picks a random game and goes through the motions, not really able to concentrate. After getting killed off nine times in twenty minutes (like a total noob) he gives up on the video game plan.

Okay. What else? Lots of options…Lots of options. Like…

A movie! Yes! He has LOTS of movies. Dramas and action movies. Scary movies and comedies. Romances (didn’t Lydia leave a copy of The Notebook?) and a secret stash of animated movies he has hidden from judgmental…persons. Hey, some guys hide porn. Stiles hides Disney. Again, WHATEVER! He just LIKES them.

He digs out his DVD of ‘Beauty and the Beast’ and lets the pre-feature crap roll while kicking off his shoes, stripping down to his boxers (the ones Scott gave him as a gag for his birthday with “Sexy” printed on the butt) and getting comfortable against the headboard of his bed. He’s embarrassing aware of how often he falls asleep during movies. He may as well anticipate it.

Checking his cell for any missed messages, knowing it's unlikely since it had been with him at ALL times. When he went to the bathroom...when he went downstairs for a soda…  He notes that approximately 45 minutes has passed since he resolved to “entertain” himself. It feels like hours.

He uses the remote to start the movie and settles in. When it gets to the part where Belle is attacked by wolves, Stiles thoughts wander to his own experience of being threatened by rogue werewolves and being rescued from certain maiming and possible death by his very own “Beast”. If Derek is the Beast, does that make Stiles, Belle? He’s never thought of himself as a damsel-in-distress before. Following along this tangent of logic, if Derek is the Beast, and Stiles is Belle, that, by default makes Stiles the Beauty. Right? Snorting and rolling his eyes at his own ridiculousness, he continues watching to movie.

He can’t help making further comparisons. Derek’s growling and scowling at everyone being the most prominent similarity. But around Stiles, with increasing frequency, he’s calmer, quieter, more relaxed. Stiles is certain he’s seen brief moments of shy vulnerability peeking through the tough-guy exterior.

He’s also noticed deceptively insignificant expressions of consideration from Derek. He always orders whatever bizarre combination of toppings Stiles wants on his pizza (and actually EATS it). He always lets Stiles pick the movie they watch (without complaint) and during pack meetings, insists Stiles sit in the only chair, standing protectively behind him. Stiles assumed it’s because he’s the only pack member without significant self-preservation skills. Could it be more than that? Comparing Derek’s actions against the movie, and Stiles again relating himself to Belle, Derek’s behavior does seem notably “Beasty.”

Stiles’ thoughts flit randomly from Derek moment to Derek moment until he’s in a happy mental fog with no knowledge of the goofy smile on his face. When the scene where Belle and the Beast are dancing in the ballroom comes on, Stiles imagines dancing with Derek, of being guided with a firm hand at his waist and a calloused, gentle hand enfolding his. He imagines looking into Derek’s eyes, clear green with a thin edging of glowing red. In Stile’s thoughts he’s handsome...and not so skinny…or pale…or TALKING. Definitely a fantasy.

Stiles turns off the movie after the ballroom scene. He doesn’t need to see the Beast turn into a Prince. He thinks the Beast is just fine how he is. While the music is still swirling around in his head, he checks his messages again and realizes that it’s not even 9:30. (WHAT?! Are you kidding me?). Continuing with the whole music and dancing thing sounds like a good enough time killer.

Lacking a plethora of ballroom tunes, Stiles chooses a random shuffle of dance music on his iPod and cranks up the volume. Being the gaming addict he is and loving the sound of stuff blowing up in stereo, he’s rather pleased with the surround sound audio he set up in his room. He starts out feeling a bit nerdy and pathetic dancing in his bedroom alone but soon loosens up.

He catches sight of himself in the full length mirror mounted on the back of his bedroom door. Moving closer so he can see his whole body reflected, he studies himself critically, trying to be objective. Okay, so he’s wearing “Sexy” boxers that look a bit silly, but overall he thinks he looks, not BAD, but definitely no “Beauty.”

He’s tallish and well-proportioned despite his lean frame. He’ll never be muscular, but he does have visible definition all over. Probably due to lacrosse practice (it’s certainly not from games…).

He’s pale, but not sickly looking, just a consistent fairness that makes his freckles stand out noticeably (he knows they’re moles but likes the term freckles better).

He has long arms (which seem to have a life of their own at times) and slender fingers. That’s a good thing for a gamer, right? At least THAT part of him is usually well coordinated.

He has long legs (great for running away with) and huge feet (not so great for running away with). The combination of those connected parts making him look, at times, like a newborn giraffe trying to stand. Sometimes he’s dangerous but usually he’s just mortified.

He has nice hair. Thick and soft and bristly all at the same time and he likes the color. His mom’s hair was the same color.

He thinks his mouth is too wide (probably from talking so much) but he has nice teeth. He’d better. The braces years sucked.

He has long eyelashes that Lydia expressed jealousy of, but he thinks his eyes are a weird color. They’re the color of “fine whiskey” according to Scott’s Mom. “Sun-kissed Honey” is what his own Mom called them. Okay. Maybe his eyes are nice.

He has no real opinion regarding his nose or ears or other miscellaneous parts. Objectively thinking, it could be worse, right?

While perusing and cataloging his fine and not so fine specifics, he’s maintained a decent rhythm to the music still playing. Deciding he’s done enough criticizing and moping, Stiles concentrates on the music, tuning out all thoughts of inconsiderate, message-ignoring werewolves and their very distracting, stupidly gorgeous, fantasy-worthy Alpha.

Like everything else he does, Stiles throws himself into the music with his whole body. For someone with CDHD, Coordination Dysfunction Hyperactivity Disorder (his own term) he’s surprisingly agile and has perfect rhythm when he dances. His attention is instantly focused when a song he hasn't heard recently comes on. It’s one of his forgotten favorites and never fails to inspire smiling, silliness and SERIOUS dancing. He quickly turns up the volume and the Bodyrockers’ “I Like The Way” blasts out of the speakers.

Stiles glances at the door to make sure it’s securely closed. Scott witnessed a similar impending scenario involving a Spice Girls song when they were younger. Scott still gives him knowing looks and a smirk if comes on the radio.

The beat makes his shoulders twitch and his hips shake, warming up.  

The song starts out slow with the singer’s gravelly voice saying:

_There's so many things I like about you_ _  
_I just don't know where to begin_ _

Stiles moves in front of the mirror again. Seeing himself singing along with the song is part of the silliness of it.

_I like the way you look at me with those beautiful eyes_

Stiles widens his eyes until they’re huge and round and bats eyelashes at himself.  
  
 _I like the way you act all surprised_

He brings his hands up to his cheeks and makes an exaggerated look of shock his mouth making an “O” and his eyes still wide.  
  
 _I like the way you sing along_

Stiles mimics having a microphone in one hand and flings the other out and to the side dramatically.

_I like the way you always get it wrong_

He drops his hands to his sides, slumps his shoulders, hangs his head and makes a pouty-lipped frowny face. (Still bouncing to the beat)  
  
 _I like the way you clap your hands_

He does a little shoulder shake, butt wiggle motion and claps to the beat while bobbing his head up and down.  
  
 _I like the way you love to dance_

Here’s where he always does that…hip thing. There’s really no way to describe it.  
  
 _I like the way you put your hands up in the air_

Arm flailing…

_I like the way you shake your hair_

Stiles knows this part would be way cooler if he had Lydia’s long strawberry-blonde locks. As it is, he just looks like his head is wobbling erratically on his skinny neck. He doesn’t care. It’s his SONG! He’ll work with what he’s got.

_I like the way you like to touch_

His hands run down his chest in, what he imagines, is a suggestive way.

_I like the way you stare so much_

He gives himself a lip-puckered, hollow-cheeked, smoldering gaze.

_But most of all…YEEAAAHH…Most of all_

(Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.)

 _I LIKE THE WAY YOU MOVE_  
  
This is the part where Stiles gets REALLY serious. He lets the music dictate the motion as he gyrates, jumps, pumps, wiggles, shimmies, shakes, kicks, spins and stomps. He doesn't miss a beat. Doesn't trip, stumble, fall, flail or open his eyes until the song is done. After the last note, he stops the music. He’s sweaty, tired, relaxed and not worrying about anything except re-hydrating.

He doesn't immediately recognize the sound when he first hears it. His ears are still ringing a bit. When he realizes that he actually IS hearing a noise and exactly WHAT that noise is, he turns with an expression of horror toward the sound. No…no, no, no!

He looks at the window, shrieks (yes, like a little girl) and jumps back, arms windmilling in an effort to keep his balance. He looks like a cat caught by a pack of…canines. The sound Stiles heard is Erica clapping her hands. Everyone…E V E R Y O N E…is standing on his roof, crowded at his window, grinning like maniacs and trying (unsuccessfully) to hold back hysterics. Everyone meaning the entire freaking PACK! (Even Allison, who probably got a jump up from Scott) One bright millisecond for Stiles was the outcry of “Oh, Crap!” and the satisfying sound of Jackson falling off the roof.

Scott, Allison and Erica climb in the window still laughing and wiping tears from their cheeks. Isaac, Boyd, Danny, and Lydia (ohmygodletmedienow) follow. Stiles has a brief moment to wonder dazedly why the universe is punishing him before something soft flies in the window and bounces off of his chest. One after another, things rocket through the window into his room. Sleeping bags?

Stiles hears the thump of Jackson jumping back onto the ledge and then he's climbing through the window. He must have been tossing sleeping bags onto the roof for…Derek…to then pass through the window. Derek, who saw him dancing. Alone. In his room. In his…Oh My GOD! He’s still wearing the “Sexy” boxers! Can this situation be ANY more humiliating?!

As nonchalantly as he can manage, Stiles reaches for his discarded shorts on the floor by his bed and proceeds to pull them on. One of his feet gets caught, of course, and he narrowly avoids a face-plant onto the bed. He straightens, plasters on a smile (grimace) and turns to the crowd loitering in his bedroom. Derek is leaning against the window frame with his arms crossed. He’s looking at Stiles with a tight lipped little smile that threatens to become a full-blown grin. His eyes are crinkled at the corners and his head is giving the slightest little shake from side to side. It looks a bit like Derek’s “what am I going to do with you” expression, but with barely suppressed mirth.

It's then that Stiles notices the rest of the pack, except for Lydia, layering and spreading sleeping bags all over his floor. Lydia is supervising, of course. Stiles gives Scott a confused look, to which he replies, “We were out training and running today. We didn't notice we were in a dead-zone until heading back. We got your messages all at once.”

“So, why didn't somebody just call me back?” Stiles asks.

“We did,” says Jackson with his usual snark, “You must have been…busy”.

Stiles grabs his phone. Yup, five missed calls. Crap! The music must have drowned out the ringing. “That still doesn't explain…this,” he says, waving at the pile of sleeping bags covering almost every inch of his carpet.   
  
“My Mom mentioned that your Dad is out of town this weekend and we feel bad that you couldn't reach any of us today. We know you hate being left alone so we came to keep you company.” Scott’s expression was a smiling, sincere puppy face.

“I think leaving Stiles alone can be very entertaining,” pipes Erica.

“Be nice, Erica.” Lydia says, coming to Stiles’ defense. She is, however, giving him a look like he’s a bit slow and can’t help being pitiable. Oh, well. He’ll take what help he can get. At least she isn't still doubled over with laughter.

Isaac adds, “Derek ordered pizza. It should be here any minute. We figured pizza, movie and a wolf-pile slumber party would cheer you up. Right?”

Stiles glances over at Derek who hasn't moved from his place by the window. Derek raises his eyebrows in inquiry. “Sounds good to me,” Stiles shrugs.

Dinner arrives and disappears like it was attacked by, yeah, a pack of wolves. After the pizza massacre is cleared away, everyone arranges themselves on the floor. As is the norm, Scott and Allison snuggle together. Boyd and Erica tangle up with Isaac who is also lying partially across Scott. Lydia, Jackson and Danny form their own cuddle-pile with Jackson propped up with a pillow, Lydia tucked under his arm on one side and Danny with his head in Jackson's lap on the other. Stiles still isn't clear on the dynamics of that particular pairing. He notices Danny’s legs positioned up against Scott’s back, though. The whole pack is touching in some way, like a continuous chain.

Derek and Stiles are the last to find their places. They stand eyeing each other a bit uncertainly for a moment until Derek, with a decisive expression, takes the initiative and sits with his back against the end of Stiles’ bed. He reaches up and grabs Stiles’ wrist, pulling him down and positioning him so that Stiles is between his legs with his back leaning against Derek’s chest. Stiles feels a moment of surprise but relaxes against the firm warmth of the Alpha when Derek’s bare arm comes around his waist to hold him in place. No one seems to find this arrangement odd. In fact, Isaac re-positions himself to lay his head against Derek’s thigh while still maintaining contact with Scott and Erica. It’s like a completed circuit, Stiles thinks.

Derek uses the remote to start the movie from the beginning. With another flash of embarrassment, Stiles remembers “Beauty and the Beast” is the player. There are assorted comments of, “Oh my God, Stiles. Really?” from Scott. “Well, at least it isn’t The Notebook.” from Jackson. And, “I like this movie.” from Isaac. The girls, plus Danny, let out a combined, “Aawwww.” Boyd was silent, of course. Derek pulls rank and softly growls, “Stiles’ house. Stiles’ choice. Now shut up and watch the movie.”

So, everyone settles down and watches the movie. A few sing along to the Disney songs. Stiles KNOWS Jackson’s lips are moving to “Be Our Guest” but decides that rather than expose him now, he’ll save that little secret to use to at a later time. Before the ending credits are done, everyone except Derek and Stiles are asleep. Apparently, the earlier run and training drained them of their usual excess energy. Good to know.

Isaac had been the first to nod off, Derek unconsciously soothing him by softly running fingers through the blonde curls. Isaac still has trouble sleeping and petting him seems to help. After that, in quick succession, the rest of the pack had followed. The Lydia/Jackson/Danny pile had re-positioned so Danny’s head was now on Lydia’s stomach and Jackson’s head was on Danny’s. Everyone else had just closed their eyes and the lights went out.

Stiles yawns and indicates a need to get up and make a trip across the hall. When he returns, Derek has the pillows from Stiles’ bed on the floor. He's positioned with an obvious empty space in front of him. Again, he gives Stiles the raised eyebrows of inquiry. Stiles feels a very small smile tilt the corners of his mouth. He lies down, arranging himself, little-spoon-like, against the Alpha’s wider chest. He can’t stop the slight sigh from slipping out as he’s tucked firmly into Derek’s warmth.

Stiles feels sleep gently pulling at him but he wants to give Derek some kind of rational explanation for his earlier, humiliating display. He starts to speak, saying, “About earlier…” Derek puts a finger over his lips to silence him. “No need to explain,” he says softly. “But…,” Stiles mumbles against the finger still pressed to his lips. Derek gives an almost inaudible growl and Stiles can feel it vibrate against his back. He hears the werewolf slowly inhale alongside his neck and feels the subtle but unmistakable sensation of lips against the skin behind his ear. Did Derek just kiss him? Stiles melts into bonelessness at the warm exhale against the back of his neck.

The last thing he hears is Derek’s sleep-growly whisper, “I like the way you move.”

Stiles replies to the admission with a soft kiss to the finger still pressed to his lips.

 

End


End file.
